


Take It Fast (er)

by SantaBaby



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alley Sex, M/M, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-23 01:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15594864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SantaBaby/pseuds/SantaBaby
Summary: Jealous!John is quite the possessive one. Especially when it comes to Sherlock and his legs that seem to go on for miles...





	Take It Fast (er)

**Author's Note:**

> This is Top!John and Bottom!Sherlock as requested. Sorry it's so late, summer's been frantic.

Sirens. Sherlock smirked. Any minute now. And there was the text from Greg. He stood and strode into the kitchen.

John swallowed the last of his coffee, the slight burn at the back of his throat making him smile in satisfaction. The smile widened when his flatmate appeared. "A case?" He asked, noticing the smirk.

"Indeed," Sherlock said. He handed his phone to John who read the text.

"Bruises? I'll have to take a look," John said. He carried his plate and mug to the sink, rinsing them off. He turned, leaning against the sink for support and god, did Sherlock try hard not to focus on John's biceps or thighs. His thighs that would feel so good against Sherlock's arse as he sat on John's lap and-

"When will we be going?" John asked, startling Sherlock from his fantasies. Wait, no, not fantasies. He didn't fantasize about John. John of all men. Christ. He needed help.

"As soon as possible," Sherlock said, shaking the perverted thoughts from his mind.

John nodded. "I'll get my coat," He said. He brushed past Sherlock, fingers brushing against Sherlock's knuckles.

*******************************************************************************************************************************

Greg greeted the detective and doctor by the door. "The body's upstairs," He explained, leading them up.

Sherlock knelt in front of the body and observed it. The gun wound was new, as if they'd been shot only hours before. The bruises were old, appearing to be about four or more days old. "John," Sherlock said.

John knelt down. "What is it?" He asked. He looked across at Sherlock, whose pupils had dominated his irises. He loved those eyes, especially when they were dilated. John loved it when Sherlock's pupils grew. Made him wonder if he was thinking naughty thoughts about the doctor. He smirked and Sherlock swallowed, much to his satisfaction.

"How old do these bruises look to you?" Sherkock asked, distracting himself.

John looked at them. "About six days. Look like they were caused by fingers. Abuse perhaps," He suggested.

Sherlock nodded. "Exactly." He stood. "The victim was an abuse victim. Her significant other-"

"She's single, Sherlock," Greg tried to say but Sherlock continued.

"abused her and must've gone too far and killed her. Arrest whoever she was married to Lestrade. I do believe our work here is done," Sherlock said.

"Sherlock!" Greg said.

"What?" He demanded.

"She's single," He said.

Sherlock looked at the bruises. No. She was an abuse victim. Had to be. "Who did she live with?" He asked. "Who!"

"No one," Greg said. "She lived alone."

Sherlock thought, mind racing with ideas.

"Aww. The genius got it wrong." Donovan said.

John tensed, biting on the inside of his cheek. Who was she, insulting Sherlock? He took in a breath through his nose and looked over at Sherlock. He was obviously thinking. John could tell by the way his lips were moving faintly. "Sherlock," He said softly.

Sherlock's eyes flew open. He looked over at John. "Her client," He said.

"Client?" Greg asked.

"Yes! She was a lawyer, yes?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah."

"She lost her most recent case," Sherlock said. "When you walk in, the office in on your right. There are boxes stacked with black marker scribbled over the name. She wants to forget about that case. There's also a full ask tray. She smoked. She was stressed because of that particular case, because she lost it. Her client became angry and shot her," He said.

"What about the bruises?" Donovan asked. "Where do those come in?"

"He beat her before killing her. He was in a rage," Sherlock said.

"Fantastic," John said. Sherlock glanced at him with the slightest smile on his lips. Those gorgeous angel lips that John was sure tasted like sugar and everything delicious.

"Go find out who her client was and arrest him," Sherlock said, and strode out.

*******************************************************************************************************************************

John and Sherlock read the email together. "He wants us to go where?" Sherlock exclaimed.

"A gay club," John said.

"No. Absolutely not," Sherlock said.

John actually didn't mind. Sherlock, on the other hand, did. "It'll be hell," Sherlock said and flopped down onto the sofa.

"Oh, come on, Sherlock. It'll take five minutes," John said.

Sherlock scoffed. "If it takes any longer, I'm leaving the case."

*******************************************************************************************************************************

The club wasn't actually that far away. It was about half an hour. Sherlock had been there before, but not for a case. Although he wasn’t about to admit that. John had never been there. He'd eyed it before but he'd never found the time or the courage to go.

John had decided to wear his black jacket with a- maybe purposely too tight- white T-Shirt. He knocked on Sherlock's door. The man emerged and, holy crap. The detective had never looked better. His usual clean, fresh suits had been replaced by a black tank top and same colored jeans. John licked his lips as he gave Sherlock a once-over.

Sherlock faked a smile and looked John up and down. He swallowed and looked back up, avoiding John's eyes.

"I just came to see if you were ready," John said.

Sherlock nodded. He looked back into his room and said, "Mostly." He turned back to John. "Are you ready?" He asked.

John nodded. "I'll go hail a cab. Come downstairs whenever you're ready," He said.

*******************************************************************************************************************************

The line to the club was long. Thankfully, Lestrade was already in line, with his badge. He waved Sherlock and John over. "Good, you got here in time," He said. He passed a photo of the killer around. The man had short brown hair and thin, square glasses. "His name is Timothy Smith," Lestrade explained.

Sherlock passed the photo back to Lestrade. "Let's get this over with," He said. He marched up to the bouncer, still upset about being there in the first place.

The bouncer held up a hand. Lestrade showed him his badge. He pointed to John and Sherlock. "Are they with you?" He asked.

Before Lestrade could speak, Sherlock whipped out a badge. A stolen badge. "Detective Holmes. This is Detective Watson," He said.

John smirked over at Sherlock. Clever boy. He looked at the bouncer. "Are you going to let us pass, sir?" He's sure to emphasize the sir so it adds to the drama.

The bouncer eyed the badges but eventually moves and allows the men inside.

They enter, and Sherlock flinches. John wonders what he's thinking. Perhaps it's the lights, the music, or the heavy, intoxicating smell of alcohol.

He looked up at the nearest pole and saw a man dancing around it. He's wearing a thong, his arse very visible from their position. His legs are shaved, as is his chest. John looked back at Sherlock. The man is staring down at his feet. John smirked. Poor Sherlock. So innocent. John could teach him all about naughty little things. He'd enjoy it.

Sherlock glanced over at John, caught his eye, and looked back down at his feet, blushing even more furiously.

Lestrade clears his throat first. "Perhaps we should move somewhere... where we can actually see the crowd," He suggested.

"Yes!" Sherlock practically shouted in agreement.

The men moved towards the bar. Sherlock ordered a beer to calm his nerves. The bartender winked. "Anything for someone as pretty as you," He said.

Sherlock said nothing in response. John had a few choice words circling around in his head. The bartender handed Sherlock his drink. "You dance?" He asked.

"What?" Sherlock asked, not really paying attention. He had a murderer to catch.

"I said, do you dance?" The bartender repeated.

"No," Sherlock said. He took a sip of his beer.

The bartender eyed Sherlock's delicate frame. His eyebrow arched up as his eyes reached Sherlock's backside. He looked back up at Sherlock's face. "How long will you be staying tonight?" He asked.

Sherlock looked over at the bartender. "Don't you have other customers?" He said and set his glass down before turning away.

John chuckled. Sherlock was certainly the feisty one.

As Sherlock turned, he gasped and pointed towards one of the poles where another man in red, sparkly trousers was swinging around. A group of men stood below, whooping and whistling. One of them was the suspect, even down to the glasses.

Lestrade discreetly moved through the crowd until he reached Timothy. He whispered something to the man. John watched as the man turned and spat in Lestrade's face before bolting.

Sherlock ran past John, calling for his friend to follow him. John ran, keeping both eyes on Timothy. For a panicking man, Timothy was surprisingly fast.

Sherlock turned his head so John could hear him over the music. "Keep following him!" Sherlock shouted. John nodded and ran. He saw Sherlock cut through the crowd but didn't pay much more attention to him.

As Timothy sprinted outside, John grabbed his arm and pushed him to the ground, just as Sherlock came from around the corner with a gun. "Stop," He ordered.

Timothy tried to wriggle from John's grasp but he pushed his knee into his back, rendering him still. Lestrade emerged from the door, red-faceed in anger. He picked Timothy up and snapped handcuffs around his wrists. He turned to Sherlock and John. "I'll call you later," He said, and marched away.

Sherlock turned to John. "I still have a drink. Do you want one?" He asked.

John nodded. He followed Sherlock inside, feeling victorious to have caught the killer with Sherlock. They walked back to the bar and Sherlock found his drink again. And who would reappear? The most annoying bartender John had ever met.

"Back so soon?" The bartender flirted. His eyes shamelessly traveled all over Sherlock's body.

John cleared his throat. The bartender turned to him. "Oh yes. Can I get you something to drink?" He asked. 

"Tequila," He said. The bartender poured out John's drink and slid it to him. John drank it as the bartender turned back to Sherlock.

"So, I get off at 10. Care to show me some dancing then?" He asked. 

Sherlock shook his head. "I don't dance," He said.

The bartender frowned. "Not even for me?" 

Sherlock shot him a look of absolute ice. "Definitely not for you."

The bartender cocked his head. "Who do you dance for then?" 

"None of your business."

The bartender persisted. "Oh, come on. If you're not going to dance for me, tell me who you are dancing for at least," He said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He leaned over the bar and snapped something at the bartender before pulling away and walking outside. John went to follow him but the bartender stopped him.

"Hey," He said. "You're a lucky guy. He's a real looker," He said, gesturing to where Sherlock was exiting. 

John arched his eyebrow. "What?"

"Your boyfriend," The bartender said. He added, "You ought to make him dance for you. Especially tonight with all the beer in him."

John looked at the door, smirking. He looked back at the bartender. "Oh don't worry," John said. "He'll be dancing."

The bartender chuckled as John walked off. He pushed through the door but didn't see Sherlock anywhere. He turned and saw the man hurriedly walking down the sidewalk. He ran after him. "Sherlock!" He called.

Sherlock turned and gasped at the sight of John. "I'm-"

John grabbed Sherlock by the coat and crushed his lips against the detective's, shutting him up. John pulled away, catching his breath. He looked at Sherlock's eyes. Christ, there were his pupils again. John licked his lips and looked to his right. There was an alley. Perfect. 

John dragged Sherlock into the alley. He pushed him against the wall and kissed him. Sherlock's soft lips tasted just how he'd imagined them. It was all perfect.

Sherlock pulled away, catching his breath. He looked up at John. He was practically caging Sherlock. Sherlock felt his insistent erection bulging from his pants. He pressed his bulge against John's leg. He tried to rub himself off but John pulled away.

"Ah-ah-ah. You won't be getting off that easily," John said. He kissed Sherlock again, fingers reaching to grab and pull his curls.

Sherlock gasped as his head was yanked back.

John licked his Adam's Apple. "I've thought about this for so long, you know that Sherlock," He growled as his teeth grazed Sherlock's neck.

"I've been, _oooooh,_ " Sherlock moaned. "I've been thinking of this too," He said. "For longer than you."

John arched an eyebrow. "Willing to bet 50 quid on that?" He said.

Sherlock smiled. How was John so silly and sexy at the same time? He looked down, where his erection was bulging, and that was the first time he saw John's tented trousers.

Good God, John was big. Sherlock had deduced he was above average but Christ, 8 inches made Sherlock whimper.

John noticed Sherlock's furious blush. He pushed his erection against Sherlock's leg and felt the man's knees go weak. He chuckled. "Did I make your knees go weak?" He growled.

Sherlock blushed. "Shut up," He said.

John's expression hardened, and he yanked on Sherlock's curls. "Don't even try, Sherlock. You're mine," He said.

Sherlock moaned at that. "Yes, I'm- I'm yours," Sherlock said.

John smirked. "You're my clever boy," John said.

"Yours. For the taking," Sherlock said.

John licked his lips before speaking again. "Does that mean I can take you right here, for all London to hear?" He asked

Sherlock gulped. He looked John up and down before looking back up at his face. "Of course."

John kissed Sherlock before forcing him to his knees. He let Sherlock calm down. He eased his grip on his curls. "I'll take you in a moment. But first. Let's see how skilled you are with that tongue," He said.

Sherlock looked up at John reluctantly. "You want me to...?" He trailed off.

John arched an eyebrow. "Go on. Unzip my trousers," He ordered. He pushed Sherlock's face to his crotch, urging him on. Sherlock slowly unzipped his trousers and pushed them to his knees. He stared at John's thick erection. He pulled his pants down down to and gasped as John's cock flipped out. 

John was big. 8 inches. Sherlock had never sucked anyone off, and the fact that John was huge wasn't helping. He looked up at John with a look of worry.

"Don't worry, Love. It'll feel good, I promise," John said.

John watched as Sherlock's plump, pink lips wrapped around the head of his cock. He groaned and looked down at his boy. Sherlock was licking everywhere. He swallowed down more of John. It was getting hard to breathe already. He inhaled but gagged around John’s cock.

John chuckled. “Too much?” He teased. Sherlock didn’t respond but John could tell by his small glance upwards that the answer was yes. “Don’t worry. I’ll help.”

John pushed into Sherlock’s mouth. He felt himself slide down Sherlock’s throat and bit his lip. He slowly, slowly pulled out just an inch and slid back down.

Sherlock looked up at John with small tears in his eyes. He was almost choking on John's cock. John gave him a small pat. "You're doing so well, Sherlock. Now, go on, start sucking," He ordered.

Sherlock closed his eyes and wrapped a hand around the base of John's erection and began, hesitantly, sucking. As John began moaning, Sherlock began sucking harder. The more John moaned, the harder Sherlock sucked. He sucked so vigorously, John almost forgot he'd never done this. 

Sherlock's fingers flicked up to John's bollocks, making the man gasp and bite his lip. Sherlock smirked. He sucked as he stroked and tugged on John's bollocks.

John thrusted into Sherlock's mouth again, taking control. Sherlock gasped, which made him gag. John didn’t stop. He continued fucking Sherlock’s mouth, strong pulls and pushes of his hips into Sherlock’s unhinged jaw.

Saliva dribbled down Sherlock’s chin as John’s big, dry cock fucked him. He felt tears fall. He needed air, but John’s cock felt so good to lap at. He could survive.

John looked down at Sherlock. He was crying but sucking like he was parched. He was so fucking desperate that he wasn’t even stopping to breathe. John gave a firm yank on his curls, pulling Sherlock’s eyes up to his. “Do you want me to cum down your throat or all over your pretty face?" He asked. Sherlock mumbled something. "Hmm? what was that?" John asked.

"I want," Sherlock inhaled through his nose, pausing. "I want you to cum on me," He said.

John smirked and licked his lips lustfully."Alright, Sherlock. Anything you want," He promised.

Sherlock blushed and went back to sucking, eyes closing in pleasure. He felt John’s fingers push his head back, pushing his head back against the wall. He was absolutely aching in his pants. God, why the fuck did he pick such tight pants? The cloth of his pants were rubbing against his erection. He was leaking, he knew. He was about ready to come but he wanted to resist, wanted to have John fuck him. But he lost it when John spoke again.

“I’m gonna come all over your pretty face, clever boy,” He growled. He felt John's balls heave in his palm and felt John quickly pulling out from his mouth. He had barely enough time to breathe before John came, semen spurting onto his face and upper neck. He swiped some of his lips, trying to clean himself. 

" _Jesus, Sherlock_ ," John moaned. He looked down at the man's face, filthy with his cum. He knelt down and offered Sherlock the bottom of his shirt to clean himself up. Sherlock leaned forward and let John rub the white substance off.

When Sherlock was clean, John smiled. "You were very good," He said.

Sherlock looked a bit offended. "I know how to do things, John," He said.

John chuckled. "I'm sure you do," He said. "But I know a few things to, so let me work."

Sherlock blushed bright red. He lowered his eyes. "Please," He mumbled. 

John leaned forward to palm Sherlock through his jeans but stopped when he felt nothing. “Sherlock,” He asked, drawing his hand away. “Did you come?”

Sherlock wouldn’t look at John. He glanced at him and saw John was smirking. He looked down at the ground, embarrassed at his orgasm.

John brought Sherlock’s head up to his. “It’s alright, Sherlock. That just means homes going to have to wait,” He said. He helped Sherlock up and set him on his feet. "Take them off," He said. he didn't have to specify what he meant. Sherlock knew. 

Sherlock pulled John's trousers and pants off and dropped them to the ground. His fingers slipped John's black jacket off and went to pull off John's shirt when John had him against the wall again. He pressed his mostly naked body against Sherlock, breathing against his neck. "Don't take that off yet," He ordered. He kissed Sherlock's neck, giving it the same attention as before. "I want to see you naked before you get to see me. Now, Sherlock, undress for me," He said. 

Sherlock whimpered against John's body, missing his words. John made him feel so, so small. He was small, compared to John. John, with his muscles and thighs. John with his teeth and lips. John with his voice and tongue. _John_.

"Undress," John growled, pulling Sherlock from his fantasies. Sherlock pulled his top over his head, feeling John's eyes drilling into him. He blushed but continued. He slipped his trousers off and made work of his disgusting pants. His new erection hung between his legs, twitching as Sherlock's eyes made contact with John's. 

John took all of Sherlock in. He was so delicously small and slender, all for him. He kissed all over Sherlock's chest, finally clamping otno one of his nipples.

" _Ah, ah, ah, John_ " Sherlock whimpered as he felt John's mouth sucking on his hardened nub. His fingers clawed at the wall as John pleased him so wonderfully with his tongue.

John gave Sherlock's nipple one last lick before abandoning it. Cold air breezed over Sherlock's chest, and he sighed so quietly that John thought he had come already. He looked down at Sherlock's cock and saw that it was still fully erect. Good.

Sherlock's eyes were closed, and his head was leaning against the wall. He had no idea what John was doing. Perfect. John hoisted Sherlock up by his thighs. Sherlock's eyes flew open in surprise. His thin arms wrapped around John's neck, holding himself steady as John pressed him against the wall. John's hand traveled to his arse. His thumb circled Sherlock's anus. "John," Sherlock huffed. John smirked and pushed his thumb inside the younger man. Sherlock gasped and let his jaw fall open in a silent moan as John's thumb massaged his insides.

“Think you can take me like this?” John asked, thumb prodding Sherlock’s insides. Sherlock shook his head. John smirked. He slipped his forefinger inside. “Like this?” He asked, voice a deep, lustful growl.

Sherlock whimpered as John scissored him. When John added a third finger, he yelped, his erection already wet with precum. John’s fingers grazed just over Sherlock’s prostate. Sherlock gasped and keened as John’s fingers touched and touched. “John,” He whispered. John cocked his head in reply. “More,” He begged.

John pulled his fingers out. He took a breath before guiding his cock to Sherlock's hole and pushing just the head inside. Sherlock accepted him.

Sherlock gasped as John entered him. When John tried to push more in, he felt his muscles contracting. Damn. John was still too much.

John pulled the head out and gave Sherlock’s hole a fresh second before pushing an inch in.

Sherlock cried out as John’s first inch slid in. He bit his lip and pushed down on John's cock, desperately searching for pleasure upon John. 

John chuckled, making Sherlock look up at him. "What?" He demanded.

"You. You're just fucking yourself on my cock," John said, thrusting up into Sherlock as he spoke.

Sherlock went to speak but, as John thrusted, he clenched his teeth and groaned. 

John thrusted hard, feeling Sherlock contract around each time. He was so deep inside Sherlock, so deep he penetrated Sherlock's prostate repeatedly.

"Ah, ah, John, _pleeeeeease_ ," Sherlock moaned as his prostate was penetrated again.

John thrusted and gripped Sherlock's curls again. "Come for me, clever, _ohhhh_ , come for me, clever boy," He said. John latched ont Sherlock's Adam Apple and thrusted.

At that, Sherlock burst, his orgasm streaking across his abdomen and chest. "Yes! John! _Ahh, ohhh, yes_ ," He cried. he shuddered and went limp against John, depending on him to hold him.

John set Sherlock down, still holding onto his arms as he felt himself calm. 

Sherlock took a deep breath before looking up at John. "Can we go home?" He asked with a smile. 

John grinned and kissed his cheek. "Yes. But only if we can do this again in my bed."

 


End file.
